


Thief

by thesearchforbluejello



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Scarif, Pre-Relationship, and both of them are super awkward about it, jyn does something nice, obviously au given that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesearchforbluejello/pseuds/thesearchforbluejello
Summary: Jyn brings Cassian a gift. Awkwardness and miscommunications abound.





	Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so... happy holdiays, have some fluff? This predates all of my other one-shots, set sometime after the move to Hoth.

Cassian has only been in his quarters long enough to settle on the bed with his datapad when he hears the delicate click of his lock being sliced. He rolls off the bed before the door slides open; it makes his back seize and his left leg go immediately numb, but he's on his feet and his blaster is ready. The door slides open and Jyn visibly starts, swearing a streak in Mando'a that's so hilariously foul he can't help but laugh as he places the blaster on his bed. He knows it's still a pretty rough sound, and he ends up coughing harshly into his elbow as he limps toward the door.

"That still doesn't sound good," Jyn says.

"Oh, hello, Cassian, how are you?" he says drily. Jyn grimaces, so subtly that he can barely discern it in the corners of her mouth, and he's getting better at reading her expressions but not so much at reading their interactions. She hugs her arms tighter around herself and looks like she'd rather leave than continue the conversation. "It's not so bad anymore," he says, more seriously. "The antibiotics are helping. How was your mission?"

She shrugs with one shoulder. "It was fine. Easy." Cassian nods, because 'easy' is something they all still need, even if he knows it's not something Jyn wants. 

She shifts her weight as the silence stretches into an awkward tension, neither of them knowing who is supposed to speak next. 

"I brought this back for you," she says abruptly, still standing in the doorway. She pulls a length of fabric out of her coat and he realizes that her awkward posture was because she'd been holding it in place. "It's cold here and you've been sick and I figured you could use it." She holds it out to him. It unravels slightly in her hand and he realizes that it's a scarf.

He hesitates, caught so off guard by the thoughtfulness of the gesture that he doesn't respond immediately.

"Yes, I stole it," she admits, a defensive edge suddenly coloring her words as she misinterprets his reaction. "But it's not what you think. Before you say anything, I didn't steal it from the vendor. Her shoes were old and her coat was old and she was wearing a necklace with two little beads on it, the kind Alorians wear with the colors to represent the months children are born? So I stole credits from a man on the street; nice shoes, nice coat, styled hair. He wouldn't miss them, not if I took just enough, so I did and I'm sorry if you don't want it, but..." She pauses then and glances up at him. He realizes she must be reading his shock as dismay when she steps back out of the doorway, turning back down the hall. He reaches out, hand closing around the fabric, tugging the scarf and, by extension, her back towards him.

"Don't go." 

She freezes, still clutching the scarf, eyes wary. She says nothing, like all the words she'd uncharacteristically allowed to tumble forth freely a moment ago have worn her back into her usual silence.

"I really like it," he says. "Thank you." She blinks at that, letting the scarf go. After a moment she just nods.

"The woman-- she said that in their culture gray means possibility because it can become any color." Cassian nods. "I just thought it would match blue," she mumbles, glancing at his parka, hanging by the door. Her eyes narrow a little at his smile like she’s not sure if he's laughing at her. He isn't, not at all. "Goodnight," she says suddenly, turning back down the hall.

"Goodnight, Jyn," he says. 

He hangs the scarf with his coat, letting the fabric trail against his palm as it unravels from the square it was folded into. He sits on the edge of his bunk and scrubs his hands over his face. He's starting to think that the most effortless, most accidental heist she's ever pulled off wasn't for an object at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
